Trembling on the Brink
by carlycarter
Summary: Myka/HG. 'Myka grasps the object a little tighter, if that were possible, and is utterly  convinced- this tiny object does something. Something dark, dangerous, delicious.'
1. Chapter 1

_Title: Trembing on the Brink  
><span>Author:<span> Carly Carter  
><span>Fandom:<span> Warehouse 13  
><span>Pairing:<span> Myka/HG Wells  
><span>Rating:<span> PG  
><span>Spoilers:<span> Set vaguley in mid season 2  
><span>Disclaimer:<span> Don't own anything!  
><span>Dedication:<span> For Tonya Buchanan , who is my dear dear friend whom I cherish more than words can say. I wrote this for her birthday, and I hope she enjoys it. It's because of her encouragement and inspiration that I found my way to writing in this fandom again.  
><span>AN:<span> I wrote this short piece quite quickly for a birthday fic, and as such it's a bit clumsy, the punctuation and grammar probably leaves a lot to be desired, and it's not my usual style. It's predominantly from HG's POV which is something I don't do often because i'm not very good at it. Sill procrastinating with the ending of "Time Will Tell" and so I wanted to write something shorter that I actually completed! Also I mostly favor using HG as opposed to Helena for a whole bunch of reasons I wont go into. In any case, hope you enjoy, can't wait for the new season! PS don't worry it has a happy ending, but it is a bit angsty in the middle :) _

_**Chapter 1**_

Myka sits in silence at the dinner table, conversation drifting over the top of her. Pete and Claudia bantering about something in important, Artie bellowing at them to behave. Surreptitiously she lets her hand drift to her pocket, clenching the item inside. She grasps her fingers around it tightly, waiting for some untold magic to come forth. She waits. She feels nothing. Positively nothing. But she does not let go.

Myka had seen HG wells, clutching that object. Trying to hid it, but not trying hard enough. Almost as if she was unable to let it go. Myka had been convinced it was an aritfact. It must have some sort of power, why else would HG Wells tote it around everywhere? Why else touch it so many times. What did this thing do?

Myka had skilfully lifted the object, right from HG Wells pocket, without being noticed. She had been careful not to handle it until she had opportunity to immerse in neutralising solution. She waited for the flashing lights, the loud bang. Nothing. It left her bewildered. And slightly irritated that her hypothesis had been wrong. And extremely annoyed at the amount of cleaning to get that insidious purpley goo removed from the mysterious object. Like its owner, HG Wells, this object only raised more questions.

Myka deeply resented the way HG Wells would just show up, now and then, out of nowhere. The way the other woman would do things, such as help Myka with an artifact, save Claudia's life, and then vanish, leaving her with cryptic words of wisdom. Sometimes she left things behind, like the grappling hook, with small notes for Myka, meaningless short jottings. And yet Myka kept every single one. It was always when Myka was alone that HG would appear out of nowhere. Never to Pete, or Claudia, and certainly not to Artie.

After the reaction from Artie when he found out she and Claudia had seen HG Wells, Myka had learned something. If she wanted to keep HG around, which she did (She didn't spend too much time dwelling on why or just how much she wanted the other woman to be part of her life), but if she wanted it to continue, it must be her secret.

While it sat uneasily with Myka, having a secret kept from Artie, somehow the way HG would come and go, almost like a ghost, made it unreal. Made it something that Artie just didn't need to know. If she told him everything, the 7 times in total HG had shown up out of the blue, each time more strikingly beautiful than the last. How HG helped with the case, how the bond between them deepened with each passing moment, how much she liked HG, understood HG. How much she felt understood. If she let Artie know any of those things, there would be consequences. Punishment for her. Losing respect in Artie's eyes. And for HG, being hunted down. And, maybe, an impossible choice.

It was better this way, hidden, secret, just between her and HG. And after all, it was hurting no one. Artie was wrong bout HG. Not entirely wrong, Myka thinks. She is not fool enough to believe HG is the poor innocent victim, some sort of persecuted saint. No.

But HG is a human being, a woman, who has struggled, and overcome. A woman who is brilliant, funny, creative, resourceful. Perfect? Maybe not. Maybe she has done some things that she regrets. Who hasn't?

Myka knows HG isn't all she appears, knows better than to get swept away by HG's charisma, that lilting accent, sparkiling eyes, warmth of her touch. Myka knows sometimes that HG is playing her. Knows HG is trying to cast some kind of spell on her. She tells herself that _because_ she knows it, she is safe. HG can't fool her. Cant trick her or manipulate her, because Myka is on to her. But somewhere, in a deeper part of herself, Myka doesn't really care what HG is trying to do. She is still so captivated with her. And perhaps, in some way, she is under the spell already. But this thought doesn't alarm Myka as it should. It feels somehow like being under HG's spell is safest place she has ever been.

Myka missed HG when she wasn't around. Yearned for her. It was always unexpected, these appearances. Myka never knew when HG would turn up. The times she waited, she watched, those times- HG never came. But the times when the situation took over, when Myka was forced to focus on case, to forget, for just a second, all about HG Wells. That's when HG Wells would appear.

Always silent, always immaculate. Strikingly beautiful.

Undoubtedly HG had the upper hand. She was the one watching, waiting, choosing her moment carefully. It seemed so wrong. The woman was 150 years out of her time. Is's Myka who had the upper hand. Who should have. But no. HG Wells has an uncanny way of turning the tables.

A loud clap of thunder and the sudden plunge into darkness jolts Myka from her musings. They all jump a little around the dinner table, though no one would admit to being spooked. There is a mad rush for candles, Pete swearing as he bumps into something, Claudia shrieking that something is touching her leg. Myka drowns it all out. She is swept away by atmosphere, the storm, the darkness. She grasps the object a little tighter, if that were possible, and is utterly convinced- this tiny object does _something. _Somethingdark, dangerous, delicious.

Later that night Myka sleeps with it clasped tightly between her fingers. She feels something, she feels connected.

She knows this- the object is of value to HG Wells. She knows also this, HG will come and find it. It's her guarantee of seeing the other woman. It's her safety net, her peace of mind.

Myka does not yet realise that she herself is important to HG. That she is the very thing HG keeps coming back for. She doesn't quite allow herself to believe that. But having this object, that makes her feel in control. She relishes the sudden power shift, having something HG wants.

As she falls asleep, Myka decides that tomorrow, she will stick close to Pete- something she had deliberately fallen out of the habit of doing. It was always when she was alone that HG would come to her. But this time, she wants to be in control. She wants HG, she wants to make HG come to her. But not yet. She wants to tease the other woman, just a little.

With thoughts of HG Wells in mind, Myka falls asleep with a smile on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2 – Helena**_

HG Wells sits alone in the darkness, which is not an unusual occurrence these days. Feelings and thoughts was over her. She sits, silent, unmoving, for a moment believing she is still bronzed. That this is all a dream. She feels something she can't quite articulate. Something she has never felt before. This strikes her as odd, as her years in the bronze sector left her plenty of time to feel.

When she was bronzed, above all, she had felt restless.

That's the one word which springs to mind after all that time. Not angry, not sad, not frustrated.

Just Restless. Lifeless. Powerless. Helpless. Longing to be free, but not desperate for it.

Desperation, despair, depression, these were not feeling HG Wells allowed herself to fall prey to.

And certainly not hopelessness.

This feeling, that comes over her now, as she sits, alone, in the dark, this totally foreign feeling, the closest word she can find to describe it, is hopelessness.

She had always felt 'alive'. Even in the bronze sector. There was always a spark inside her, igniting her passion, her creativity, her very survival.

Tonight, that spark is gone.

It leaves her bewildered. And after the bewilderment subsides, she fees merely...lost.

She can not pin point the exact moment she lost her precious talisman. The object she carried with her at all times. She can not even pin point the last place she had it in her possession. It had become so routine to reach for it. It was always, always, there, within her grasp. HG Wells does not believe in superstition. Rather she believes in things she can see, in science, even in things she can imagine, things that made sense, that existed in the possibility of her mind, if in no one else's. But superstition? No. She believed in unexplainable things, artifacts, powers. But this object had no power. No rightful claim over her at all. It was superstitious, sentimental nonsense. And so she tries, in vain, to shake off the overwhelming sense of loss.

It was a habit she despised in herself, seeking comfort from a worthless object. Her weakness. It reminded her of a small child toting around some ragged old blanket, believing it would keep them safe. Not _her _ child. Christina had never needed an object, a blanket, a teddy bear. Christina had a good head on her shoulders. And a mother to keep her safe. The words collapse inside her head the very moment she thinks them. What kind of mother was she? She could not even keep Christina safe. Christina deserved better.

And thus, the sentimental value of this object- Christina had given it to her. But not only that. As Christina had given her many things. There was something else about this object.

She recalls her daughters soft tiny hands, her hopeful joyful trusting eyes. The object meant something like that, HG decides. Something un describable, akin to the look in the little girls eyes, something, perhaps, unattainable, unreal.

Something which magnified the life force which always drove her, against her struggles, sexism, censorship, peoples negativity stifling her creativity, her constant life story of being told she cant do this...or that...or anything.

The object means, she realises only now, something like hope. Something like reason to keep on going. But now, it's gone.

Distantly she is aware of the rain falling on the roof.

It had rained_ that day_ too, the day she lost Christina. As it had rained many times before, and probably since. She can not claim to know for sure, dry and secured in the bronze sector. But the sound of this rainfall hits her instantly. In a way she had not been expecting. Pain was constant companion, and this sudden exacerbation, this vicious stab of agony, causes her to cry out in surprise, in discomfort. Despair. Horror.

It was a combination of these perhaps, the loss of her comfort item, the rain reminiscent of Christina's last day on earth, causing her this much pain out of the blue. She feels utterly isolated, alone. Not only in the physical sense. But the spiritual sense. Everything is foreign to her. She has here no friends, no family, no place to call home. No purpose. No hope.

Through it all , two things had always kept her going. Firstly Christina's precious face in her mind. Sweet, innocent, beautiful. The desire that she needed to be something, to make something of her life, to make Christina proud. To live for Christina.

And secondly, surprisingly, there was Myka Bering.

HG hadn't thought much of Myka as an adversary at their first meeting. However upon getting to know the other woman, the two had forged a rocky connection. She had come to see Myka as a woman not unlike herself in many ways. Stubborn, determined, resourceful, misunderstood. And yet in some ways so so vastly different. Or perhaps just in a vastly different place.

HG watched her, from afar of course, with Pete, Artie, Claudia. Undeniably a family, not a team of colleagues. A genuine family, nothing less. And nothing like her own apprentice days at Warehouse 12. And Myka, at the centre, so obviously and openly adored by them all. Yet Myka doesn't recognise it, HG realises. Instead Myka torments herself with insecurity, with loneliness, with guilt. Myka feels apart, feels different. HG would like to take her aside sometimes, slap her senseless. Make her realise that she has so much. Who is Myka to feel alone, to feel misunderstood or hard done by? She is loved, adored, revered, surrounded, protected, valued.

It makes HG squirm to think about it, and she doesn't know why. Perhaps because she wants a part of it, she made no secret of that. Told it to Myka very early on. She isn't certain she was believed. But she wants it. Badly. And if she can't have her piece, then she wants Myka out of it. She wants Myka with her, on the outside. It might be wrong, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And HG Wells heart wants Myka.

It does not occur to HG Wells to think she may be in love. Being "in love" is not something she did. And certainly not now. So she turns her thoughts from Myka, from love, to loneliness, and inevitable death.

People do die, eventually, some sooner than others, even when they are bronzed. HG knows it. She isn't sure how she knows it. But she knows it. The will to live is a powerful thing. It sustained her over a century. But some people lose it. And with no stimulation, no hope, no reason- they do die. Slowly the body begins to decay. It's difficult to determine the moment of physiological death, as under bronzing there are no traditional signs of life to begin with, no heart beat, no respirations. But it's the death of the person, the personality, inside. Longing to be free, and shutting down the brain, until there is nothing left.

And yet, longing for death to be free of bronzing is not something that had ever occurred to her. Bronzing only made her more determined to survive, to fight back, to win, to breath again. To move and walk and create and experience and live.

Bronzing? No. She can not claim that bronzing had driven her to the edge. Nor had being re-animated in this world, a world unimaginably more cruel and painful than the one she left behind.

She had been driven to the edge, once, a long time ago, after Christina died. HG Wells, fleetingly, had wanted to die. To be with her baby. Or to die in exchange for her baby. Or to numb the excruciating pain. It's that feeling which returns to her tonight, as it sometimes did. Sometimes it washed over her, in passing. But tonight, it takes hold, it sinks in. Tonight she can find no way out. Tonight she doesn't want a way out. She takes deep painful breaths as silent tears fall. And she reaches for her object of comfort. It is not there.

The madness of it almost makes her laugh. Look at what she has lost, what she has endured. She lost a child, a precious little girl. She survived. But losing a worthless object is going to push her over the edge to the depths of despair? Evidently so.

She finds herself consumed with agonising grief, loneliness, fear, anxiety. She can not breathe, and breathlessness is not foreign to her after her stint in the bronze sector. But this is different. This need for oxygen, it's painful, it left her gasping, collapsed in a heap, in the total darkness, metaphorically and physically.

She is aching for her precious little girl. All these years, it still doesn't hurt any less. Then there is the insidious guilt- What kind of a mother had she ever been? Why hadn't she protected Christina?

She is profoundly disturbed by image of Christina watching over her, from wherever she may be. She doesn't spend a lot of time dwelling on logistics of where Christina is. She has to believe in somewhere, yet it defies all her scientific knowledge. But to think of Christina watching this pathetic display of what her mother has been reduced to, her descent into madness, makes her sick to her stomach. But there is no escape. No escape from this.

_Not true,_ she corrects herself, _Helena, not true_. There is one escape. The thought makes her dizzy with relief. Makes breath come a little easier, tears a little slower. One escape from all this forever. She declares, silently to herself, silent so that Christian wont hear her from heavenly spying post- that this is the last night she will spend on this earth. Over a century is more than most people, more than enough. Tonight, she vows, at last, she will join Christina in the realm of the dead.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3.**_

Myka wakes gasping for air. She can not breathe, not at all, she sits bolt upright. She is disoriented in the darkness, confused.

Instinctively she reaches the object. Almost as if she expects it to bring her comfort. She isn't certain why, it's not rational.

And it doesn't work.

She reaches her shaking hand to the light switch and casts her gaze around the room, almost as if she expects to see something, someone, some dark force. She sees nothing.

But her heart is still racing.

She jumps in fright as Pete looms in the doorway. There is absolute horror, shock, all over her face.

Confusion and concern on his.

He is asking her what she is doing. She doesn't know.

"I must have been dreaming." She mumbles, unconvinced and unconvincingly.

Pete is looking at her, in the way she always hated. Looking right through her, in the way he had always been able. His probing eyes had always disturbed her. She had grown accustomed to feeling invisible, insignificant. It made her feel vulnerable to think that he could see right through her.

"Have you been playing in the warehouse?" He is half joking, raising one eyebrow, but partially it's a serious question.

It's her lack of response alarms him, that she doesn't hit him, or push him out the door.

"Myka? You're acting strange." He continues, as he invites himself to sit on her bedside.

"No, Pete, I have not been playing in the warehouse. I am not that childish. That something you would do."

"It's just, you're acting weird, and I wondered if an artifact maybe..." His voice trailed off under her cold icy stare.

"No, Pete. This has nothing to do with an artifact. Do you think everything that doesn't fit within your paradigm is due to an artifact? Just because I don't agree with you on every little thing an artifact is affecting me? Are you that arrogant to believe the world revolves around you Pete!"

Subconsciously he backs away, and she lowers her voice when it occurs to her she might wake the others .

He stands looking at her for a moment, afraid to speak, afraid to say the wrong thing. She casts her eyes away, not able to meet his gaze. And then, suddenly, she pushes past him and down the stairs.

She feels like she needs to run, not run from him, but to something, to someone. To HG. She feels like perhaps outside she will be able to breathe. It's not that is was unusual for HG to be on her mind. She thought of little else. But this was different. This was a desperate need, fear, she had to find her.

She hears Pete's clumsy footsteps following her. Her hands are tightly clutching the object, dangling from her fingers, glistening in the moon light. He catches sight of it.

She doesn't resist him as he pries it from her hands. After all, the object has done little to quell her fears. She has decided it is meaningless. And somehow it feels so...out of place...in her hands. So she relinquishes it to him, without a fight.

"What is this? Is this from the Warehouse?" He asks the question, but he himself feels no special powers or effects from touching it.

"No, Pete. its not."

He believes her.

She cant take her eyes off it, that object, dangling precariously from his strong steady hand. It clicks then, and only then. That object. She took it. She needs to return it. It's not logical, she cant explain it. But that's what she feels. She needs to take it back to its rightful owner. Then, she will be able to breathe. She snatches it back and turns, walking away from him, heading for her car.

"Myka, Where are you going?" He calls after her.

"I don't know. Just go away, Pete, you don't understand. Something terrible is going to happen if I don't take this back. I can't explain it to you, it's just this feeling This..."

"Vibe?" He finishes for her.

She stops in her tracks. She hates to admit it, but that's exactly what it feels like . A terrible vibe. She had ridiculed him in the beginning, for his '_vibes'. _She had quickly come to respect his intuition, but it still creeped her out.

She resented lowering herself to that level, trusting in this invisible irrational thing that could not be quantified or analysed.

Pete has now caught up to her. "Talk to me Myka, It's Pete. You can trust me. I can help you. What is going on?" He pleads.

She can barely make out the features of his face in the moonlight. She believes him, but she can't tell him about HG. She would lose all respect in his eyes, lose her job. HG would be captured. She just can't do it.

He takes her hand, but it doesn't calm her like it usually did.

"I took that, it doesn't belong to me. I have to take it back." She tells him. It's the truth.

"From the Warehouse?" He asks.

"No!" She hits him playfully then, "Not from the warehouse, how stupid do you think I am?"

He rubs his shoulder, feigning injury, and smiles a little. Because this is more like the old Myka. At least she is talking to him.

"I have to take it back. I cant explain why. I don't know. I only know if I don't..." She trails off, she feels her chest constricting, breath catching in her throat, her head throbbing.

He finishes the sentence for her again. "Something terrible will happen. Something you cant stop. And you feel like you cant breathe until you make things right somehow, and it makes you feel crazy."

"Yes, all of that." She admits. "Now give it to me."

"Let me come with you." He pleads.

Distantly, he looks so sweet, so sincere. Yet it does not affect her the way it usually did. He is no longer her rock, her hero. He is merely an obstacle in her way of getting to HG Wells. And she must push him aside. Trample him into the dust if need be.

"I cant, Pete, leave it alone." She tells him sadly, walking away.

He makes no move to stop her, he stands calm and still, but she hears his voice carrying on the breeze, and it almost causes her to trip over her own feet. "Is this about HG Wells?" He asks softly.

She spins to face him abruptly."What did you say?" She whispers

"Do you think I'm blind, Myka?" He asks. "I've seen you, talking to her."

"You don't know what you're talking about." She tries to sound confident, but her voice is shaking.

"Three times in the last month, Myka, you've spoken to HG Wells."

_Three times?_ She thinks to herself. _Try Seven._

Her horror at being caught is overshadowed by the thought that she has managed to keep at least some of her visits with HG private.

"Why didn't you say something? " Myka asks him.

"Why didn't YOU say something to ME?" He responds. He isn't angry thought, not really. He is disappointed. Hurt. And she feels momentarily guilty.

"Fine." She concedes. "This belongs to HG, and I must take it back right now. "

"Then you need my help." Pete informs her.

"I don't." Myka insists. "Go inside and pretend you never saw me."

"I know where she is." Pete announces, playing his trump card.

"What?" Myka is dizzy, so many things running through her head.

"I've been keeping her under surveillance for the past month. I know where she is staying."

"You've been keeping HG under surveillance, and you didn't mention it to me, your partner?" She doesn't know if she should be angry at him for keeping her in the dark or kiss him, because he knows where HG is.

"Not my call, Artie thought it was best, He thinks you like her. I guess, you do. Since you spoke to her, more than once, you never told me, never told Artie." Pete answers.

"I guess we both been keeping secrets then." Myka replies, pushing the guilt aside, she has no time to dwell on it now " Tell me where she is."

"I'll take you there." He suggests.

Myka does not want him there, not in the slightest. She needs to take the object back to HG, she knows that. And she wants to see her, is desperate to see her, to talk to her, to touch her. Pete isn't part of the deal. Yet. But for the moment, she needs him. She can see he wont let her out of his sight. She can see she will have a lot to answer for. But none of it matters. Time running out, and so she she concedes to his demands.

As she slides silently into the passenger seat of his car, she says to him "Thank you, Pete." and she means it.

"I'd do anything for you, Myka" He tells her. It scares her a little to realise that he is right. He would do anything for her. But it's not enough for her. She wants more. She wants HG. And she doesn't even spare a thought for the trouble she is getting Pete into.

"Did you tell Artie, that you seen me, and HG?" Myka asks him.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." He answers, and he really doesn't. "Why didn't you tell me you'd spoken to her?" Pete asks in return as he starts the car.

"I didn't think you'd understand."

"I get it. You like her. She's attractive, intelligent, creative. You feel like you have something in common. She is very beautiful, captivating. But she is dangerous. You don't know her."

"You don't know her either." Myka points out.

"She was bronzed for a reason. He reminds her

"You don't know that either, you weren't there."

He sighs in defeat. "Just be careful. I'm helping you because I care about you, not her. Because I see in your eyes that this is something you have to do. But, after tonight, you have to put her out of your mind. This is going to end badly. Once Artie and the regents have got whatever information they need from HG Wells, she will be bronzed. Stay out of it, it's not worth your career, your life. Take that thing back to her, and walk away. That the best advice I can give you."

She nods, watching him as he keys the address into the GPS.

She feels only a flicker of remorse as she pulls the Tesla out, and aims it straight at him. He hadn't seen it coming. Gently she pushes his lifeless body out of the car. It wasn't that cold, he would be fine until he woke up, or someone found him. So she told herself as she slid into the drivers seat and drove away. Leaving Pete, and the Warehouse, for dust.


End file.
